


Turquoise Fragments

by nic73



Category: The Mentalist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic73/pseuds/nic73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since I knew I would be writing this episode tag, I haven't read any others, so any similarities are purely by co-incidence. I wondered why Lisbon saved the pieces in the first place. This will be either two or three chapters long as we follow the fragments from the floor of the CBI to the birthday box</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She watches as the doors close and the elevator disappears down the shaft, taking her world, as she's known it, with him. He said he was done. Done with the CBI? Huh! What CBI, Bertram;s killed that! Done with Red John? Hard to believe. Done with her? No he said he would call.

She walks slowly back to the bullpen, FBI officers are still swarming like flying ants devouring her life, taking everything. She notices something shiney on the floor, she bends down and picks it up between her fingers. It's a small fragment someone missed as they cleaned up Jane's cup. The expression on his face as he looked at the broken pieces was almost comical, as if he'd just lost the most important thing in the whole world to him.

She shakes her head, because, of course, he had. Red John had just been taken away from him, not to mention, the only life he has, his only home. A motel room certainly isn't a home and his house in Malibu hasn't been a home since Red John ravaged it.

She moves to the kitchen, as she's about to put the fragment in to the bin, she stops as the rest of the pieces look back at her. Discarded trash like her job, her colleagues, her life. She scans the kitchen but finds nothing suitable. She rushes to her office and grabs her purse. Returning to the kitchen she carefully lifts out the fragments and puts them inside her purse. She feels a sting on her finger as she's withdrawing her hand, catching a rough corner. Blood bubbles up from the pinprick and she sucks it hard, until it stops. She takes another look into the bullpen, the room is almost empty, She turns on her heels and leaves.

She closes her apartment door. Sinking down into the couch she holds her head in her hands. It's over, Red John is dead. His words are on a constant loop in her mind.

"I'll miss you."

It's over, he's gone. She will never see him again, hear from him again. He's a murderer on the run. They won't catch him, he knows how to get out, how to hide. He's been a part of her life now for so long, he became her best friend. She'll never see that cheeky grin that was both infuriating and charming. She hopes that now that it's over it will one day reach his eyes.

She remembers and reaches for the purse she hasn't used for a few days. She opens it up and sure enough the fragments are still there. Tears spring to her eyes as she realizes that it's a metaphor for her life, their lives: broken. She reaches in and gently, carefully, picks up a piece. She turns it over, she can see traces of remaining fingerprints on the surface, she places her own finger over it, its his. She whispers:

"I'll miss you too."


	2. Chapter 2

Lisbon waves them off. As Grace and Wayne's car disappear around the corner she turns and enters her home. She says it out loud:

"My home!"

She stands with her hands in her pockets in the living room, which contains her own couch, bookshelves and coffee table. Well not strictly her own, they come with the rental, but she's never had stuff so nice and she's never rented a whole house. There are cartons piled against the wall, but Wayne and Grace helped her with the main stuff, the kitchen's unpacked, her clothes, the bed's made. It's mainly books and other nic nacs that are left.

The timer pings in the kitchen signalling the pizza in the oven's ready. She'd invited the Rigsby's to stay but they had to get back, but not before a promise to come for dinner the following week, after all she had to thank them for all their work. She puts the pizza on the coffee table and places a slice on her plate and sits down cross-legged next to a carton to unpack.

She looks at her watch, it past ten, time to stop and go to bed. She hadn't meant to work so late, but the time passed quickly. She peers inside the carton she's working on, there are only a few more things, she'll finish up and then shower and go to bed.

She brings out more books, some cd's. She places the books on the bookcase and the cd's in the drawer underneath the cd player. Looking inside the carton all that's left is a pale blue square box which she picks up and sits down with it on the floor beside the packing carton. She places it on the floor and brings her knees up to her chin and stares at the box.

She'd hadn't packed this carton, a neighbour did it, she told her to just pack everything. She knows what's in the box, but she'd forgotten it was there. She doesn't understand why she still has them. She should just throw them away. She leans over and picks up the box and lifts off the lid. The smell of stale tea hits her senses as she stares at the fragments. Images of Jane flash across her mind of him holding his cup. How he loved his tea, a shadow crosses her face. Does he have tea where he is now?

She guesses it's somewhere near the ocean, he loved the water, he was always turned into a little child at the beach. At least she likes to imagine that's where he is. Imagine that it's hot, lots of sun that he can bask in. Is he doing something productive with his life, or just surviving? She tells herself that she hopes he's happy, but, somewhere deep down inside that she doesn't acknowledge, there's a part of her that wants him to be missing her, wanting to come back.

She wonders if he has any idea of the mess he left behind. Not a mess of his doing, not most of it anyway, that was McCallister and Bertram's doing. They destroyed the CBI, they weakened the whole police force of California with their Blake Association. She was left without a job and without a reputation. Despite being the one who helped bring the organization to light, she was severely tainted by it, they all were, especially Jane.

The killing of McCallister wasn't seen as the death of a serial killer, at first, but a power play for control of the organization. Jane's name was held alongside McCallister's as corrupt and evil as the monster himself. The headlines tempered down a bit as the truth dribbled out, but the stink never comes out of your clothes so here she is in Washington, a County Sherriff. What would Jane make of it all.

The pain hits her heart as if hit by a baseball. She misses him. What she would give just to have him standing by her side, his scent filling her senses, his breath warming her skin. She misses his playing banter, his merciless teasing. She looks at her couch and the image of him lying there, a twinkle in his eye, a smile playing on his lips, as he teases her about the fragments in the box.

"Couldn't cope without me. I see."

Tears prick her eyes and she whispers:

"Sometimes I don't think I can…but I need to try."

She puts the lid back on the box and stands up. In the kitchen she opens the cupboard door under the sink, the trash can is full, She places the box on top of the counter.


	3. Chapter 3

Jane looks at Lisbon as though he knows exactly what she's thinking and he most likely does. He's probably guessed that there's something in the box she doesn't want him to see. She's hidden away the box of fragments so that even if he checks the packing carton she pulled out, literally from under his nose, when she remembered what was in it. The thought of him discovering that she'd kept the fragments filling her with horror. It would amuse him and how could she explain why, when she didn't understand herself. He's already amused, that twinkle in his eye, the mock show of surrender.

"It's okay Lisbon, there's something there you don't want me to see. I will respect your secret."

"Yea, of course you will!"

"Something connected with a past lover perhaps?"

"See! I'm not playing this game."

She starts to walk out of the kitchen.

"Okay okay, Lisbon, no need to leave, I won't say anymore."

She stares at him, trying to judge his sincerity.

"I promise."

She relents at a flash of his smile, how's she missed that smile. She struggles to hold back the tug threatening at the corners of her mouth, so her growl can be more convincing.

"Okay, but one word, and there's no ice-cream when we finish."

"Scouts honour, lips are sealed."

She drops her purse on to the floor and falls on to the couch after her fifteen hour, successful day. Her tiredness a testament to how long it's been since she's really had to work. It was rare she worked more than the allotted nine hour days in Washington and the cases certainly didn't tax her brain.

She looks around the room, there are still a couple of boxes to unpack after being here a month. She smiles to herself. She managed to get a house. She'd expected to be renting an apartment, but when Jane left the detention centre, he'd presented her with three houses he'd found up for rent in areas he thought she would like. He said it was the least he could do after dragging her away from Washington. This place was at a great price, just on the edge of suburbia so she could feel she'd left the city behind her, but not have a horrible drive into work, especially if she was out of the house by seven.

She lets out a sigh and stands up, she needs to get something to eat before it's too late, but first she'll slip into something more comfortable. On her way to her bedroom, at the back of the house, she shrugs out of her jacket and once inside she hangs it in the closet. She unbuttons her shirt and leaves it hanging open as she grabs a t shirt. She checks the pockets of her pants and her fingers brush against a piece of paper. She pulls it out, it's a scrap of paper about a third of an A5 notepad, one edge is rough where it's been torn free. As she opens it she recognises the familiar handwriting, a smile plays on her lips and she flops down on to the edge of the bed as she reads the words

'A menu from the fancy restaurant in the big city, where he planned to take you at the weekend, in which he's circled the most expensive dish they serve, to show that, where he's concerned, there's no expense spared.'

Her smile widens as she scrunches it up and throws it in the bin, it's a game he's played ever since he helped her move in, and the suggestions are getting more outrageous. She thinks back through the day, wondering when he would have slipped it in her pocket. She only saw him for a few moments in the morning and at the end of day briefing, as he accompanied Fischer all day. She remembers his hands brushing against her arms as he passed by to sit beside her. He's a talent, she never suspected a thing.

It's fun having him back. In a moment of honesty she has to admit it's more than that, it's getting a part of herself back that had gone missing and left a gaping hole that she wallpapered over with moving to a different state, a different job, a different home. It didn't work and she knew that with the first letter that arrived. She waited for each one, hungry to hear his voice in her head, grateful to know he was okay, He sounded lonely.

When Abbott summoned her to Houston, saying that Jane had returned, her heart leapt. On the plane anxiety took over, wondering as to the reason for his return and what the future might hold for him. She comforted herself with the thought that he must have come back voluntarily, so he must have a plan.

She remembers that first sound of his voice and the feel of his arms around her, holding her so tight, trying to get back what had been missed in the two years since they'd last seen each other. Then he was making plans for her future, their future, and she protested because where does he have the right, but then he was gone once more, taken away from her in handcuffs.

But he's back, with everything he wanted, including her. It was no contest, the three months he languished, felt longer than the two years. She didn't make it easy, she's proud of herself for that, but she was never going to refuse the job. She was never going to let him go, now that he was back.


	4. Chapter 4

Lisbon's brought out of her stupor as her phone rings. She looks at the display, it says Patrick Jane, she lets it go to voice mail, there's no way she can talk to him at this moment. She puts her phone back in her pocket and her eyes settle on the open box of china fragments that rest on her lap.

All around her are piled the boxes she, not long ago, unpacked when Jane had helped her move in. But now she's leaving in a couple of days and she's happy about it, despite the tears marking her face. There's no Jane helping her today, she didn't ask him, and he didn't volunteer. He's mad at her for not telling him personally that she was leaving, that her notices were all in, a new job secured and a future with Marcus waiting. A future that can be forever, should she accept his proposal. She doesn't blame him.

The packing had been going smoothly until she came across this box. She'd forgotten she'd hid it in the back of the closet the day Jane had almost found it. She'd meant to throw it out when he'd gone, after all, there was no reason to keep them anymore, now he was back in her life.

She'd been so happy that day. Jane back, she was working interesting, challenging cases, she had a house, Austin's a lovely city and she wasn't a million miles away from two of her brothers. But it wasn't enough. She discovered when Marcus came into her life and they began to get serious and he talked of a life together, that she wanted more. She didn't want to come home to an empty house anymore. She was ready to give herself to someone, and she realised she had been for a long time. The only reason she hasn't said yes, is that it's too fast. Too much to take in.

She hasn't told Jane about the proposal either. Wonder if he would be happy for her? Memories of Jane outside her door, telling her that he wants her to be happy, To do what makes her happy, flash before her. Tears had followed him down her path as she watched him walk away.

She's the one who's leaving, who's moving on and yet as she watched him disappear into the night, she felt desolated, as if he'd walked out of her life. He'd given her permission to forget about him, not to worry about him. She's been the closest person in his life for so long, he'd even felt a need to contact her as a fugitive, despite the risks. She understood him more than anyone, they've been through so much together, but this they can't share.

If things had been different she may have allowed dreams of sharing her life with Jane. He's been the most important person in her life for so long, certainly knows her better than anyone else. There's no denying the emptiness she feels when he's not around. But can a man ever get over losing love so violently? Can a man ever let go of the guilt he's carried? He still wears the ring.

The choice became no choice in the end, a life of dreams and needs fulfilled, or a life of waiting.

She closes her eyes and unshed tears fall down her cheeks. She puts the lid on the box, closing this chapter of her life. She slowly stands and takes the box to the kitchen determidly. She can't keep these anymore, she mustn't keep them anymore. She puts the box in the waste bin under the sink.

Her phone rings once more, it's Abbott.


	5. Chapter 5

He's still attempting to kiss her as she closes the door on him. She turns and leans against it and looks at the boxes stacked against the wall, a symbol of the biggest mistake she almost made in her life. She licks at her lips capturing the last taste of his kiss and then her features return to the smile that hasn't left her face since their first kiss. She realises her cheeks actually ache. Marcus never made her feel like this. She cares deeply for him and she's sad to hurt him, but its better this way. They wouldn't have made it together and he doesn't deserve second best. That's what she told him during the most difficult phone call she's ever had to make. But she's not going to dwell on that, he wasn't very courteous about it, and who can blame him, she'd accepted his wedding proposal just four hours earlier.

While waiting for the airport authorities to allow her to see Jane she'd called him, deciding it was best to get it over with, plus there was a plane she wasn't on. No matter how things went with Jane, she knew she shouldn't marry Marcus. He'd thought she was joking, at first, which was awkward. Then he'd pleaded before getting angry, she was glad the airport official interrupted and she had to end the call. She'll text when he's had time to calm down.

She pushes herself off the door and looks at the keys in her hand, Jane's plan may not have gone entirely to plan, but without the trip to Miami, the keys would be handed back to the landlord and her things on their way to DC. She shakes her head and her smile grows wider. Instead she's still here, her things are still here, and Patrick Jane loves her!

She'd been so mad at him, playing games, manipulating her, not thinking about her feelings at all. She hated leaving the way she did, but she couldn't bear to look at him, even hearing him breathe on the other side of the door was turning her stomach into knots. But then he appeared on the plane, confessing his love, baring his soul. No underhand tactics, no manipulation, no trying to get her to stay. Just Patrick telling her his feelings, wanting her to know, to understand, whether it was too late, or not, whether she stayed, or not.

And she wasn't staying, she meant it when she said it was too late, but as he was led away by security, as he disappeared from her view, she realised, he was part of her, that without him, she wasn't whole, that she couldn't, wouldn't be happy, if he wasn't in her life. She almost laughed out loud, she'd experienced it often enough before that it wasn't really a revelation, but she'd buried it deep to keep herself safe.

Her mind takes her back to facing him across the detention centre table. She unknowingly bites her lip at the memory of his smile as she told him that she felt the same. A mixture of happiness, relief, vulnerability and hope. She loved him even more. A warm thrill passes through her body, she shakes herself out of her revelry she needs to get on. She needs to empty her bag and pack some new things, he's waiting for her at his airstream. Tomorrow they will start unpacking, again. Tonight she doesn't even have sheets on the bed.

As she passes the kitchen she spies the box she left on the counter and detours in. She'd hummed and ahhh'd about what to do with his letters. She couldn't really take them with her, could she? But she couldn't throw them away. In the end she'd decided to leave them on the counter, leave it to fate as to whether the moving men picked them up or not. Deniability, her best friend!

She opens the box and traces her fingers along the edges of the letters and then picks up one of the turquoise fragments that now shared the space. Why hasn't she been able to bring herself to dispose of these? She doesn't know, but she's glad she didn't. She picks up another piece that's caught her eye and places it against the other, they fit, perfectly. She fingers through the rest and finds the next piece, it fits again, no little holes showing daylight. Soon she's tried every piece and can't believe that the cup broke so perfectly. An idea forms and she closes the box, knowing now why she kept the pieces.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane's point of view

Jane stares at the box with some trepidation. Teresa's been so excited about this present he only hopes his reaction will be satisfactory. He has no idea what's inside, only that it's important to her. He hears her urge him on and he looks at her and gives her a smile.

His breath catches as his whole body registers shock as a familiar turquoise cup is revealed. Then his pulse rate doubles and a warmth infuses his whole being, not just any cup, it's the cup, the one he left in pieces on the CBI floor.

How well he remembers that day, he'd worked out who Red John was and he had a plan forming and there was Abbott dismantling his place of operations, his work, his home, they were taking his couch! This was something he had hadn't calculated on, that they would close the agency that had uncovered the corruption that expanded all areas of law enforcement, not just the CBI. Then the cup was knocked out of his hand and as it smashed in to pieces he wondered if his plans to get Red John was doing the same. He couldn't stay there, he left immediately, with this wonderful, patient, forgiving, person sat next to him, trailing in his wake.

As he stepped inside the elevator and turned to see her there, an image flashed into his mind of this same elevator, the same concerned face. Then he'd walked out of her life for six months, he wasn't doing that again, at least not yet. He left her with the promise that he would call.

She'd collected up the pieces. He looks at her with no attempt to hide the astonishment in his features. He doesn't want to, she deserves it. He tries to speak but the words catch in his throat. He tries again.

"You kept the pieces."

She worries about whether she actually managed to confound him, when how could he ever guess such a thing. He hasn't given the cup a second thought, it was gone, just like the life he'd known. Yet, now here it is in front of him, in his hands. It's beautiful, feels just the same in his hand, like an old friend. It doesn't look exactly the same, there are tracks of where the pieces have been glued together. No it's not the same, it's better, it's beautiful.

A symbol of love, one he never expected to have in his life again, and in the quiet moments when he did contemplate it, while never actually acknowledging it to himself, he never imagined he still had a chance with the woman he'd used and abused over the years. His rock, his supporter, his sounding board, his best friend. But here he is sat outside his airstream with birthday celebrations before him and the woman who knows him better than anyone, the woman he's deeply in love with and incredibly loves him too, at his side. Staring at a cup, put back together by her, just as she'd done with him, he knows he loves her with all his being and he never wants to lose her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a tag for episode 10/11

He takes a sip from the mug in his hand as he looks out at the beautiful landscape. He savors the tea before letting it slide down his throat. It's good but not what it could be. A metaphor for his life. He climbs down and plops himself on a step. He finally arrived, not that he's staying, it's just for the night, long enough to witness a breathtaking sunrise, another sunrise in another place, nowhere feels right.

Just like the mug in his hand. He misses the turquoise cup, his beautiful gift. He'd left it behind. He'd almost taken it with him but couldn't. He thinks of the many fragments held beautifully togther. How strong is the glue? How far does it have to fall to break into a thousand shards? Impossible to be put back together again. He needs to find a safe place for it, where it will be protected and he will never lose it again. Until then, until he's figured it out, it's better away, it's better out of sight. Otherwise he might let his desires, his heart rule his decisions, he might run back forgetting, risking everything. And he knows that should he shatter once more, he will never go back together again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter posted, Thank you to everyone who's read it and for the kudo's. This is a tag to the finale.

The next morning Lisbon wakes up to the smell of coffee and her new husband gone. She sits up and sleepily rubs at her eyes, she squints at the table and there is the source of the smell, she smiles and swings her legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for the cup. She takes a sip, and closes her eyes as she savours the taste and the caffeine. It had been a long night. The guests had stayed later than they would have liked, but they were having a great time. They had retreated to the airstream and left them to it. Come to think of it: where is he? As if she'd spoken the question out loud, a voice reaches her ears:

"Hey sleepyhead, come join me outside, it's beautiful."

She can't keep the smile from her face as she hears the joy in his voice and she's the one who put it there. She grabs a shirt, his shirt, and slips it on, picks up her cup and steps outside. He's sat on fold up chair just a few feet from the airstream looking out at the pond, he's thrown on a pair of pajama bottoms. He turns as he hears her descend, he plants a look of disappointment on his face.

"I should have put that shirt away."

"We may be miles from anywhere but I'm not stepping outside naked, too many bugs."

Adding emphasis to her words, Jane slaps at his chest. She steps back in the trailer and grabs a t shirt and makes her way towards him. He takes the shirt from her and kisses her warmly:

"Thank you, they are pesky."

He gestures towards a second chair:

"Or you can sit on my lap, you decide."

She looks at him and then at the chair."

"You have a lovely lap but the chair I don't trust to take the both of us."

"Suit yourself."

They both sit down and he takes her hand as they stare out across the pond.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm perfectly well."

"No sickness?"

"No, nothing."

He looks towards her and smiles:

"Great."

"It is, I just can't seem to stop crying at the littlest things."

"I've noticed."

"I think I'd prefer throwing up."

He looks at her.

"Trust me, you look more adorable teary eyed, than with spittle on your chin."

"That's good to know."

He strokes her hand with his thumb, she looks out at the pond as a flurry of birds skim the water. His voice echos her thoughts.

"Beautiful"

She turns to him to agree, to find him staring intensely at her and a shiver runs through her body, and she feels herself blush. A small smile graces his lips and he turns away and reaches down beside him. He picks up his tea and takes a sip. She makes a double take at the turquoise cup.

"When did you get that?"

"It seemed the right place for it to be, here with us."

" You're not going back to work then?"

He leans back with his eyes closed and sighs contentedly. He releases his hold of her hand as he sweeps the air before him.

"This is going to be hard to give up."

Subconsciously almost echoing his words to Abbott.

"So you've decided then?"

He opens on eye a crack to look at her and sees her teary eyeed expression, he sits up and reaches for her hand once more.

"Hey, I haven't decided anything yet except to love you and…"

His gaze moves down to her stomach,

"….our baby and to build us all a house. After that I will know if I can walk away from the FBI or if I miss it too much. Though the baby may make that decision easier."

"I..I want to carry on working"

Her tone is hesitant and unsure. He cups her face in his hand and strokes her chin.

"I presumed you would."

He beams at her.

"Now, we have a lot to do before we leave on that plane."

"We got nothing to do, our bags are packed, what el.."

She finds herself unable to talk as his lips press against hers. When his lips eventually release for just a second she gasps:

"Great idea."

She moves a little as she feels his hand searching to get underneath her, he lifts her up and carries her up the steps, she's not sure how they're going to make it through the door locked in each other's embrace but she has faith he'll have a plan.


End file.
